"You're the one who said you'd help me with my wound. You have to take responsibility for what you say. I was just reminding you to hurry up."
Clara Grant secretly pouted. 'Whatever. It's my own fault for getting soft-hearted and offering in the first place.'
'In for a penny, in for a pound!'
She took the medical alcohol and cotton swabs out of the first-aid kit. Although the scraped areas had already scabbed over, she figured it was best to disinfect them to prevent inflammation.
Clara Grant gently took his right hand in her left. With her right hand, she dipped a cotton swab in alcohol and began dabbing it gently on the back of his hand.
Feeling Seth Quinn's hand flinch slightly, she immediately stopped. A little nervous, she looked up and asked, "Does it hurt?"
It didn't actually hurt; a wound like this was nothing to him. But her touch was so gentle, and when her fingers, curled against his palm, shifted slightly, it sent a ticklish sensation across his skin.
